


two sided coins

by vbligs



Category: Star Wars
Genre: Fluffy, NSFW, Other, WIP, androgynuous stormtrooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 16:18:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13239450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vbligs/pseuds/vbligs
Summary: a stormtrooper meets the great kylo ren.told through random, fragmented moments in their lives.





	1. Chapter 1

keep in mind this is a work in progress (wip)


	2. &&1

**_PAGE 34_** //

**_“ this rage is the one thing I get from my father.”_ **

Matt coughed, head ducked into the desk display, doing lord-knows-what, greasy and dirty and all around unknowing of the intricacies of technical work. A slight, tapping, hissing noise emanated from the module, and smoke poured out with a coughing, wheezing noise of the fuses. Smashing his head against the lip of the desk in his rush to escape the cloying, choking black fumes. His hair, now coal and grease stained; with splotches covering some of the soft, tousled, and golden locks was the first batch of color to escape the noxious cloud of clogged exhaust smoke that rattled from the pipes inside. Soot stained glasses flashing and hazy, and then a pale face with soft pink lips. Swearing under his breath, Matt waved and flapped his hands, attempting to clear the thick smog from around his face.

Such a broad frame now small and unimposing, legs half crossed in the ugly gray uniform with its disgusting shade of orange for a vest, Matt sat there, plaintive and quiet, lungs catching on every puff of untainted air that passed through his lips. Running rough, calloused hands through his hair and looking around, Matt wondered why again he had chosen the lowly position of a ‘radar technician’ for his undercover rank. He knew nothing of the inner-workings of these blasted machines. All he knew was the force, lightsabers, and that he hated taking orders. Simple things, complex mind.

Then, a titter, a snort, a guffaw, call it what you will, flung him back to his body from his far out thoughts. A stormtrooper, nondescript in the industrial made suit. Caught in the respirator and vocal box, the laugh was twisted and garbled, some would consider it monstrous. To Matt though, he had often experienced the corruption of words through his own helmet, when he wasn’t parading around as his alter ego, when he was none other than himself, **_Kylo Ren_**. But there’s the stormtrooper, and he can feel through the Force the waves of silent laughter rolling of this particular stormtrooper’s self. Matt, he must think of himself as Matt, stared, no, glared at the stormtrooper, all but growling, the rage, bubbling up, the one thing he could count on to sweep him away, flooding his senses in moments like these, his mind racing and thoughts clashing til one stuck, _‘ **this rage is one thing I get from my father** …no, my **grandfather**.’_

_“What are you **laughing** at?”_

The stormtrooper smiled beneath the mask, not condescending, just a smile, he sensed it.

_“I’m laughing at **you**.”_


	3. &&2

**_PAGE 98_** //

**_“ he will taste like the poetry I wish I could write.”_ **

Matt – no, _Kylo_ – corners the stormtrooper, that ambiguous, unreadable stormtrooper, hair back to its normal charcoal and pitch, scar freshly meshed and raw, but there’s his eyes, shadowed with something unreadable. He’s cornered them, arms caging the stormtrooper in, black robed persona blocking all forms of exit. Dark and looming, he is a presence that demands attention, and now keeps this stormtrooper in the area between their bodies.

_“You…do you **recognize** me?”_

The stormtrooper, stripped of helmet, a layer of protection, smirking and bold, now leaning towards the Commander, with bright, mirthful eyes, and then closes the distance between them, hands on hardened chest and pushing back with splayed fingers, and words dripping like honey from poison lips.

_“I doubt that you need to **know**.”_

And the stormtrooper pressed their lips to his, and whispered as the Knight’s eyes shot from half lidded rage to wide eyed surprise and confusion. The stormtrooper smirked, eyes twinkling and filled with something unknown.

_“If I were to love someone, **he will taste like the poetry I wish I could write**. Do you understand?”_


End file.
